by C. M. Sutter
From now on, I’m covering the floors with plastic drop cloths. It’ll save me all kinds of time that I can put to better use.
He carried the teacup to the first room and set it down before he filled a bucket with hot soapy water. After kneeling down and sorting through the lower cabinet, he finally found a stiff scrub brush near the back wall. Greg pulled it out and ran his thumb over the bristles.
This should work.
He reached in the cabinet again, grabbed several rags, and dropped them into the bucket of water. As he passed through the second room, the distinct odor of death filled his nostrils, and the scent was about to get worse. Greg opened the last door and gagged. The body needed to be wrapped and put in the refrigerator for the time being. Opening the windows wasn’t an option. That dog would follow the scent of decaying flesh and head straight to his house.
First things first, I need to get that body out of this room while I clean the floor.
He rummaged through every cabinet in the first room and in the house—no tarps or drop cloths. He considered using garbage bags, but he wasn’t ready to cut the body apart yet.
Damn it, more time wasted, and I still have to find a place to dump her remains.
Back in his truck, Greg drove six miles to the nearest big-box hardware store and purchased a half dozen plastic drop cloths.
The friendly cashier spoke up once it was his turn to check out. “Looks like you have a big project ahead of you. Need some paintbrushes today?”
Greg forced a smile. “No, I’m all set.” He handed her a twenty, got three dollars and a handful of change in return, and carried the bagged drop cloths to his truck. He let out an involuntary sigh as he settled in behind the wheel. It was ten after six.
Once home, he set the microwave for one minute and reheated his tea, and with a dab of eucalyptus oil under each nostril, he entered the first room, slipped on an apron, then continued on. When he opened the last door, he took in a cautious breath.
That’s a little better.
He spread the large plastic sheeting across the floor, gloved his hands, and crossed the room to the body. Lola had already started to turn a sickly purple color. Even if he’d wanted to, he had no hope of harvesting any body parts other than her hair. His creation of a puzzle-pieced Kamila needed to be perfect. He’d accept nothing less.
Greg rounded the table and noticed how the blood had dried into Lola’s hair and skin. With a little prying, he coaxed it loose. Once her torso was freed from the table, he slipped his arms under it and carried her to the drop cloth, where he wrapped her stiffened body and sealed the plastic with duct tape. Making room in the refrigerator would be difficult, and Greg wasn’t about to take his prized possession out of cold storage to use that space for a body he would soon dispose of.
Maybe the chest freezer would be a better holding area. Less of a cutting mess if everything is frozen too.
The thought of placing a corpse in the freezer in his living quarters was far from appealing, but he had no choice. He went to the kitchen, moved frozen food from the chest freezer to the upright one, and lowered Lola in. Giving the torso’s new location too much thought would frazzle his brain. Greg returned to the third room and set his alarm for ten o’clock. He gulped the tepid tea, got on his hands and knees, and scrubbed the floor.
Chapter 10
With my bags packed, I doubled-checked my purse for my ID and boarding pass. I was good to go. At ten o’clock, the house was empty, other than the lovebirds, Spaz, and me. It was my job to make sure the menagerie was taken care of, the lights were off, and the doors were locked. With everything checked off my list, I set the alarm and walked out the front door with my carry-on and a backpack containing my laptop. I’d be at Mitchell International Airport in fifty minutes, and at that time of day, traffic wasn’t an issue.
During my conversation with Kim yesterday, she’d confirmed she had reserved a room for me, although it was nowhere near hers. I had my doubts that she would have invited me to her room, anyway. I assumed we’d have dinner together, though, to discuss how the party would unfold on Saturday.
I arrived at the airport, parked in the economy lot, and took the shuttle to the departures curb. I’d wait in the security line with everyone else since I wasn’t fortunate enough to have TSA PreCheck status.
The plane taxied out at noon with no weather or mechanical concerns, and I settled in at my window seat and watched the runway disappear beneath us as the jet surged forward and took to the sky. As I opened the crime novel I had started several weeks back, I realized my free time for reading had seemed to diminish each and every day. I guessed that meant there were more criminals than ever out in the world who needed apprehending. My mind went back to the macabre news about the mutilated bodies strewn throughout Fulton County, with the latest body parts found in Oakland City. The thought was more than disturbing, and according to news reports, nobody had been taken into custody. I shuddered at the gruesome images that popped into my mind and prayed that murders would never become so commonplace that people turned a blind eye to them. Citizens needed to be protected from the bad guys, and as law enforcement agents, we considered it our responsibility to protect them as best we could.
Returning to the moment as we made a wide circle over Lake Michigan and headed south, I looked back a few chapters in my book so I’d remember where I’d left off. The flight attendant came by with cookies and coffee, giving me a good hour and a half to relax and read. My gut told me that from the moment I landed until I boarded the plane again next Monday afternoon, the trip really wouldn’t seem much like a vacation.
My eyelids felt as heavy as boat anchors as I turned the page to chapter fourteen. I planned to close my eyes for just a minute then ask for another cup of coffee when the flight attendant walked by, but the next voice I heard came from the loudspeaker.
“This is the captain speaking. We are making our final approach into Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport, where the current temperature is a comfortable sixty-seven degrees with light winds coming out of the west. We’ll be on the ground shortly.”
I sat up straight and looked out the window. We were much lower in the sky than the last time I’d checked. The flight attendant walked the aisle, collecting garbage and asking everyone to put their tray tables away and return their seats to the upright position. It was obvious that I had dozed off and lost my chance at a second cup of coffee. I tossed my trash in the bag and stowed my tray table, securing it with the lever. My book, which I didn’t remember reading, went into my backpack.
I’ll read more tonight while I’m alone.
We deplaned fifteen minutes later, and I worked my way to the shuttle area. The airport, the busiest in the world, was jam-packed with people frantically scurrying about, trying to either make their flight on time or look for their connecting gate. I was happy to be walking toward the exit. The shuttle bus for the Embassy Atlanta sat along the curb, and I flagged it down and climbed aboard. So far everything was going smoothly, and I hoped it would stay that way. I called Kim as the shuttle filled with passengers.
“Hey, I’m on the shuttle, so I’ll be checking in to the hotel in ten minutes or so. Should we grab some lunch?”
Kim responded for me to come to her room. We’d talk about it there. I hung up with a sense of emptiness and wondered why my sister couldn’t act like a loving one.
The doors closed, and with a slight jerk, the shuttle bus took to the road. We’d be at the hotel in a few minutes. I’d call Jack once inside and let him know I was safe and sound in Atlanta.
From what I had read, Embassy Atlanta was a medium-sized hotel with four floors, an indoor pool, an exercise room, two restaurants, and a coffee shop. It would do just fine, and the location was a fifteen-minute drive to my mom’s house between Peoplestown and Grant Park.
As the bus turned in, I noticed the lush green landscape at the hotel’s entrance. It was in stark contrast to the fall colors—already passing their peak—in th
e north. Thirteen of us exited the bus, all heading to the reservations counter. I’d wait outside on the bench and make the call to Jack then check in and find my room. I wasn’t in a hurry.
I pressed Jack’s name on my contact list and waited as the phone rang on his end. “I’m here.”
“Good. No hiccups along the way?”
“Nope, I’m just waiting to check in and see if Kim wants to do lunch. I should have flown in Saturday morning instead, and then I could have left on Sunday. I wouldn’t have missed a day of work.”
“Sometimes you need to get away from the daily grind, Kate.”
“I know, but that grind sounds more appealing, and you guys feel more like family than my sister does.”
Jack chuckled into the phone. “At least you’ll see your mom.”
“True. To be honest, I can’t remember when I saw Kim last. I bet it’s been close to ten years.”
“Do I dare say it’s time?”
I sighed my anxiety. “I suppose it is. Okay, I’m going in. Tell everyone I miss them already.”
“Will do.”
I clicked off the call and went inside, where only one person stood in line ahead of me. I glanced at the newspaper rack to my right and saw the front-page headline—Fulton County Butcher Strikes Again. I pulled the paper out of the rack and stashed it in the side pocket of my backpack. I was sure I’d need more reading material, and what was better than a true-to-life local crime story?
Chapter 11
Greg was cranky. Last night’s cleanup had taken much longer than he had anticipated, and he hadn’t gone to bed until midnight. Bloodstains were nearly impossible to get out of cement cracks, and he was still reprimanding himself for that oversight. From that point on, the floors would always be covered with drop cloths.
When the bell above the door dinged, he looked toward it. A customer had just walked in. Greg set the meat cleaver down and wiped his hands on his apron.
“What can I help you with, sir?”
“Looking to buy six medium-sized filets.”
“Eight ounces or so?”
“Yeah, that sounds about right.”
“Sure. It’ll take a few minutes to get them ready.”
The stranger spoke up while he waited. “How’s business?”
“Pretty good even with the grocery chains having decent meat counters. It seems that people still prefer special orders and fresher selections.”
“Taking any punches about the Fulton County Butcher?” The man laughed.
Greg gave him a frown. “No, unless you intend to be the first.”
The man’s face went red. “Sorry, that was in bad taste.”
Greg tossed each slab of meat on the scale then wrapped the pieces individually in butcher paper and rang up the total. “That’ll be fifty-eight dollars.” He placed the steaks in a plastic bag and handed change to the customer, who’d given him three twenties.
The man thanked Greg and turned toward the door. “I’m sure I’ll be back.”
Greg watched as the customer walked out with the plastic bag in hand, then muttered jackass under his breath, but the snide comment got him thinking. Greg’s incisions were always precise, and being a butcher was his occupation.
What kind of people are the cops looking at—surgeons, butchers, or both?
He had to rethink his techniques going forward since getting unwanted attention wasn’t his goal. He couldn’t let anything disrupt his time line, and he had only a few days left to complete his task.
Maybe I’ll forgo the scalpel and only use the saw from now on. The body parts I leave behind can’t look like they were cut by a skilled hand.
Greg would have another busy evening. He’d have to troll those same neighborhoods to find another lady of the night to take home, and he still had Lola’s body to deal with. All he needed was her hair, but he’d have to dispose of the head somewhere separate from the legs and torso. Crushing it beyond recognition was another option.
He needed to get through the day and head once more to Midtown, where the prostitution industry was the most robust. He’d find another woman, take her home, and see that she was never heard from again. He needed legs to match the skin and muscle tone he envisioned, and finding the perfect face would be the hardest part of all. The eyes needed to be a yellow green and obtaining them could prove to be an impossible task, but he’d do his best. If necessary, he’d visit a taxidermist and buy glass eyes instead—it was the color that mattered. He was finished picking up the wrong type of woman and dumping unusable body parts all over Atlanta was far too risky.
Chapter 12
I checked in at the registration counter and followed the arrows to the elevator. My room was one floor beneath Kim’s and on the opposite end of the hotel. I swiped the key card and entered a small but well-appointed room. It was all I needed. I unpacked and freshened up then called her.
“Kim, I’m heading up, so I’ll see you in a few.”
I’d learned not to prolong conversations with her, as she was a to-the-point type of person with little else to say.
With the door locked behind me, I retraced my steps to the elevator, went up one flight, and followed the long corridor to the other end of the building. I stopped at room number 313 and knocked, then I put on the best smile I could muster.
The door swung open seconds later, and Kim stood on the other side. “Kate, it’s been too long. Come in and have a seat.” She pointed under the window at the small round table with two chairs pushed in against it.
No hugs, no kisses, just “Have a seat.” I gritted my teeth, pulled out a chair, and sat down. I could read her face—indifference—but somebody needed to start a conversation. “How have you been?”
“You know.”
“No, actually, I don’t since we never speak.”
“Allen has a girlfriend.”
“What! Do you know that for a fact, or do you just suspect it?”
“Is him telling me about her and asking for a divorce factual enough?”
I rubbed my brow and wanted that to be the explanation for her distance, but she had always been distant, and maybe it was her personality that had pushed Allen away. “I’m really sorry. I had no idea.”
She cocked her head and stared at me. “How would you?”
I wanted to say what I was thinking, but I held my tongue. “So you needed to get away, and that’s why the party for Mom?”
She shrugged. “Maybe in part. I’m thinking about moving back to Atlanta. If Allen wants a divorce, he can have one. Once the house is sold, I’ll move south, and that’s when he’ll regret his decision.”
“In what way?”
“Splitting all our assets and paying me maintenance is going to show him how little money he has left after everything is said and done.”
All I could think was wow, and news like that would take a while to process. Kim and Allen had been married for nine years, and luckily, in hindsight, they remained child-free. Silence filled the room. I figured it was time to change the subject since I didn’t know how much of their personal life Kim wanted to share. “So should we grab a bite to eat? I’ve only had two cookies since seven o’clock this morning.”
“I guess so. I’ll go over the party details with you too.”
Downstairs, Kim and I were led to a table in the center of the room. The restaurant reminded me of the chain variety, with a three-page menu containing all-day breakfast selections, salads, every type of burger and sandwich imaginable, and a nice selection of soups. It would do just fine. I ordered a domestic beer, and Kim asked for water. I shot a frown at her. “Make that two beers. Give us a few minutes to look over the menu, please.”
Kim waited for the waiter to walk away. “Why did you order two beers?”
“Because you’re drinking one.”
She began her protest.
“Sis, can you just lighten up for the next few days? Pretty soon, you’ll be calling the shots on your own, living in Atlanta again, and may
be even buying a cute condo or something like that. One lousy beer isn’t going to upset the apple cart.”
I believed I saw a quick smile light up her face, but she’d never be one to admit it.
We spent the next hour gradually getting reacquainted. I’d learned that Kim didn’t have an easy marriage and staying out of touch helped her keep their dirty laundry, as she put it, at home.
“You could have called me, Kim. I want to have a close relationship with you. I know we’re different”—her disbelief in my psychic abilities was always a barrier between us—“but we can work on accepting each other’s differences. What do you say?”
“I’ve always been a loner and tight-lipped.”
I knew that all too well. “Isn’t it time for a change? It sounds like there will be a lot of changes to come, so what’s wrong with adding one more?”
“You do have a point, and I’ll do my best over these next few days.” She glanced up from the menu. “Baby steps, okay?”
“You’ve got a deal. Maybe we should talk about Mom’s surprise birthday party now.”
Kim let out what looked to be a genuine smile. “Let’s do that tomorrow over breakfast.”
Chapter 13
Once again, Greg drove at a snail’s pace up and down the streets of Midtown. He needed a better look at the women before pulling to the curb and calling out to anyone.
No haste, no waste.
He craned his neck in every direction on the side streets between Peachtree and Myrtle. The sun had begun to set, so he needed to decide on a woman while he could still get decent visuals on everyone. A young blonde at the corner of Third and Piedmont caught his eye, and he pulled to the curb. Her short skirt and four-inch heels accentuated her shapely calves and thighs, and he didn’t notice any tattoos—a big plus.
Greg lowered the passenger-side window and called out to her. “Hey, blondie, can I talk to you for a minute?”
